Undertow
by GldnSilnce
Summary: A journal entry. An aftermath. Just a short one-shot thing.


Disclaimer: I don't own anything and if you try to sue me, all you'll get is some pockent fuzz and an empty snack bag of pretzels. Disney is The Supreme One here, all shall bow to them or be vaporized.

Undertow

_Too often people think they know you; know who you are; know what it is you do; know the reasons as to_ why _you do what you do. And far too often…those people are wrong. Dead wrong. What makes me think I know this you ask? Easy…I'm one of those people whom everyone believes they have figured out._

_See, it seems simple enough: In this movie-type lifestyle, I'm not the main, I'm just the co-star. I don't get to use the fancy language or say the ultimatum. I'm just the person who's seen as the back-up. I don't blend in exactly (though it would be hard for someone of my tastes to blend in with anything), I just keep the momentum going. Do I screw it up and occasionally stop it? Yeah. I do. Hey I'm only human right._

_Human. That's a funny phrase to use to describe me. I mean, I have the proper limbs, brain (although truth be told I don't use my to it's full extent sometimes), habits, mannerisms, need to breath, and you know, all the other usual parts. But, what I do? Well a normal _human _wouldn't do them. At least….not unless they wanted a crater-sized headache after some of the stunts I've pulled. I dunno…it's a complicated dance I do._

_Sometimes…I just want to throw in the towel. Not give-up exactly (please…I do have my pride), but just give it all a rest for a while. I'm tired of fighting, tired of being back-up, tired of following someone else's dreams, just…tired. This wasn't the life I imagined getting into; heck I don't even think there ever was a life I imagined getting into. But I know for sure it wasn't this. _

_People say one of the most important things in life is to be able to look back on yours and know you accomplished what was important to you; to be able to view your past and be proud. Am I proud? I can't say that I am. But on the other hand, it's not like there's anyone I ever needed to be proud of me. There's just never been anyone…at all. To care whether I saved the world or ruled it. There just wasn't anyone there._

_Maybe that's why I feel the way I do now; why I'm doing what I'm doing. I have no one to fail or please. It's just me. It's not so bad though. No pain really. It's actually kind of peaceful. I know there will be some who say I was a coward to do what I did. Hell, maybe I am. Maybe I'm not. But I don't want to fight anymore. For as long as I can remember, I've spent my life fighting; fighting on one person's behalf, fighting for another's. I don't want to fight for anyone else anymore. So I'm through fighting. For the first time in my life, I can say that it's peaceful. I've never known peace until know, and if this way of knowing peace makes me a coward…then I'm a coward._

_Things are slowing now…getting fuzzier. I don't think I'll be able to write anymore. I don't know if I have anymore to write. It's just so…_

-

For some odd, unexplainable reason, it was never given a big headline but just a small column in the sidebar. One would think the suicide of a nationally-known criminal would be headline news, but it wasn't; just a few short paragraphs that one might not even notice. But a few people did and it was enough.

In a remote location, outside city limits, a small park-like setting stood undisturbed. On a normal day, one would take a glance to this area and notice no life except that of the trees, plants, and few birds that made their home in the surrounding trees. On this day however, if one took a look, they would notice another presence there. A hunched over figure, sitting on the ground next to a small stone slab set into the ground. A crumpled coat, mussed hair, coupled with red-rimmed eyes told a story of loss and extreme sadness.

A soft breeze brought with it the sounds of people approaching. Not bothering to look up, the figure continued to stare out into the distance; what looked like a journal forgotten in his lap. A hand was placed on the shoulder as a soft voice spoke.

"Dr. Drakken?"

Dr. Drakken, known more for his ruined attempts at world domination than for his ability or lack thereof in inspiring fear into the hearts of anyone, looked up to stare into the face of his once arch-foe. Looking past her he saw the figure of another "co-star" who lived in the shadow of the main. Wiping his eyes dry, Drakken gestured for them to sit down.

"It's….nice…of you to stop by here. I don't think anyone even knows she was buried here."

Kim and Ron sat on the ground staring at each other in silence for a few moments, before Ron spoke up. "How did you find her?"

A shaky breath to still the nerves, Dr. Drakken told of how he had come back into the lair that fateful day only to stumble into what was surely his worst nightmare.

"I had just acquired some codes to gain access to yet another secret base that contained what I was sure would be the ultimate key to world domination. I walked into the main room but didn't see her around. After calling her name, quite loudly, I finally just went to her room and was about to knock, or bang rather, on the door to get her to listen to my plans. I got sick of waiting and just walked in. And then…."

A pause for breath turned into moments of silence as Drakken completely zoned out to the world and just went into himself as he saw in his mind's eye the scene he had walked into.

-

She was there at the desk looking, for all appearances to just be sleeping: head facing away from the door, one hand resting on a journal, the other across her lap. Drakken grinned evilly as he saw her journal and approaching ever so slowly, he gently slid it out from underneath her arm. Careful to not make much noise, his eyes flicked to the top of the page hoping against hope to find some piece of juicy information he could possibly use as blackmail against her.

His grin faded with every sentence he read; every paragraph he finished; until finally…

They say some silences can be so 'silent' that one could hear a pin drop. In this room, the silence was so complete that not only could a pin drop be heard but the echo would last for several moments afterwards.

And in this case the pin was not a pin but a journal; falling from hands suddenly gone limp from dread.

-

"I did everything I could. I'm a scientist for Godssake! I should have been able to _do something_!" His voice cracked on the last words. "But I couldn't. It was too late. _I_ was too late. I checked for any signs of wounds or...or _anything_ to prove my eyesight wrong. I kept thinking 'She couldn't have done it herself. Someone had to have set this up. She wouldn't have gone out without a fight.' But I was wrong. She wrote it herself…she was tired of fighting." Drakken turned a tear-stained face to the two heros. "For a few moments in time, she felt peace. There was no fighting, no struggle; she just went. I…I don't know whether to be angry at her for doing something so…_extreme_ or be happy for her that she finally gained what was eluding her all her life. I just. Don't. Know."

The two teens didn't know what to say. Was there anything for them to say? So instead, no words were spoken because there was none that could be said to give any sort of comfort to the torn man in front of them. Each knew that they would be going through the same state if the other did what she had done. And each prayed to God that they would never have to go through it.

The setting sun gave visual warning that the time was getting late and a beeping tone told of another mission that the two would have to go and handle. Getting up, they looked down at Drakken who for his part continued to just sit there unaware of things around him. Sighing they walked off wondering what would become of this now shell of a man who felt like half his life was gone, buried in the ground with who was his once henchwoman….partner….sidekick….

Friend.

-

Author's Notes

This little story was done in a matter of minutes; quite possibly forty or so. I don't claim to be a writer by any means. I have no talent in the area, sometimes I just need to get stuff out. This was one of those times. I thank anyone who read this, whether or not you liked it is irrelevant for me. I'm happy if someone just gave it a chance. I didn't think it would be so depressing, however. It just ended that way. Oh and this is my first time using so if I screwed up on anything, forgive me. It was unintenional.


End file.
